


I know I may never accept the change but I want... Happiness.

by Renmiriffx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Alternative First Meeting, Angst, Blowjobs, Bottom Mickey, But eventually happytappy ending thou, Denial of Feelings, Drinking, Falling In Love, First Time, Homophobia, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I'll tag more later - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of violence/ child abuse, Mickey has a pet, Some Humor, There will be fluff, and SMUT, better warn ya, coming to terms with sexuality, cos I fucking love it, heavy on dialog, it's gonna be depressing, multichap, teasing and playing games, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renmiriffx/pseuds/Renmiriffx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey met a man in a bar, a gay man on top of everything.<br/>He knows he shouldn't, but he's drawn to the stranger, he want's to explore, but doesn't really know how or even why.<br/>Or just where can "Just a little fun" take him.</p><p>(Aaand I suck at summaries)</p><p>Title from a song IAMX - happiness</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first day

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first crack at a multichap Gallavich story. It's gonna be sad and fluffy and fun and and stuff...  
> Not my native language and yada yada. So sorry for typos and general grammar errors.
> 
> I don't bite, not hard anyways ;)

**Friday 20 th.**

 

“I don’t need this fucking bullshit!”

“Mick… Mickey, please, just please stop it and hear me out.”

“No, you don’t get to say to me what I am! I don’t need any fucking labels. I’m not a fucking brand.”

Ian sighed, trying to form words, but just couldn’t. Mickey was right, he had no right to do that to him. Not to him, not to Mickey, whom he held so dear.

“I wanted us to be free.”

“Fuck that, and fuck you. Get the FUCK outta here!”

Words sank into Ian’s mind. No, not like this. Please don’t do this, I love you, don’t. Ian stepped forward to cling, hold on to Mickey, but he dismissed him with a single hand motion.

“Ian, get out. Now.”

“Please…” So broken, so needy. “Please.”

Tears formed in the corners of Ian’s eyes, helplessly falling down, hot and burning. Sniffling he tried to wipe them away, but it was in vain, the more he tried, the more tears felled.

Mickey kept yelling him to get out, but the words went over his head. Realization sinking in, it was over. He couldn’t do nothing to stop it. He had screwed up. Big time. Ian gulped his tears down and left the familiar apartment, shutting the door, just to break down. Banging his head against the door.

“I love you.” He whispered into the cold night.

 

**Three months earlier.**

This place is a dump, like a total fucking dump. Even the wallpapers are peeling off. But hey it sells beer, and that’s good enough for Mickey Milkovich.

He was leaning against the counter. Sipping his beer, minding his own business, not particularly taking any interest to what was happening around him. Until he caught a glimpse from the mirror behind the counter. A fairly young guy, twenty-ish, well-fitting clothes, burning red hair, he looked like he really didn’t belong, like he was lost. But the guy’s eyes were fixed on Mickey butt. He even bit his lips while he did it. ‘Whatta fucks that guy’s problem, this ain’t a fucking gay bar.’

On a normal night Mickey would have taken a swing at the guy wiping that guy’s fucking smirk away. But tonight he couldn’t care less, besides fag bashes are getting old, he was getting too old for them. So he just let the guy check him out. He buried himself in the drink.

The red head sat next to him, not saying anything, just casually ordering a beer. Mickey couldn’t help himself glancing at the guy. Shouldn’t homos drink fancy drinks with rainbows and shit? He glanced again. Up close, he had beautiful features, freckles, un-normally pale skin. If Mickey swing that way, he would have said that the guy was hot as hell, but he didn’t, so no.

“Can I help you?”

Oh fuck, he had stared too long.

Those piercing green eyes turned to look at him.

“No.” Suddenly Mickey found his mouth extremely dry, quickly turning his head away.

“You sure? You almost drilled a hole to my head with those shiny, no, _icy_ blue eyes.”

“Fuck off.” No way was he blushing.

“A tough guy then, huh? Fine, enjoy you’re piss warm beer then. Since you have no manners at all…”

Who the fuck the guy thinks he is? Patronizing Mickey, like he was a child, dude had to younger than him.

“Excuse me?” Eyebrows high as fuck, ready to spat a litany of foul things.

“Well here I was being nice, and you just flipped me off like a child.” He said casual as fuck, sipping his beer like it was nothing, with a pleased smirk on his face.

Dude, he called him a child. A fucking child. It made Mickey feel hot, someone stepping on him, it shouldn’t, but none the less it did, like really hot. Still pissed off though. Mickey took the red haired guy by his collar and pulled him close, close enough to feel his breath, close enough to see his face probably, gosh was he beautiful or what. Eyes fixed on his, making him suddenly very nervous.

“You wanna fucking take this to outside?” Mickey said never breaking eye contact.

“If that’s what you want, _tough_ -” Pause. Eyes stripping Mickey like he was a piece of meat. “ _Guy._ ”

“FINE! My place or yours?”

What the fuck he just said? Did he just ask a freaking stranger, a dude, never the less, that? What’s gotten into him? He wasn’t thinking clearly, not with his head anyways. With something else, maybe.

Yet there they were. Standing on the porch of the stranger’s house.

“Sure you wanna come in?” Red hair asked opening the front door.

Fuck, Mickey thought. He should fucking leave, but no. Fuck it. Without saying anything he pushed the guy aside and stepped into the house.

The guy followed and shut the door behind him, he turned the lights on. The house wasn’t as big as you’d thought. It was tasteful, tidy, inviting even. Mickey could see an open kitchen, living room area with a nice big couch and a bar table. Thank god. Liquor, that was exactly what Mickey needed, booze. He grabbed the first bottle and took a big gulp. Gosh, it was whiskey, fuck it burned his throat, numbing everything.

“We gonna do this or what?” Mickey wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was, but he didn’t care. He wanted to feel, to feel something.

The strange dude didn’t say anything, he took a step forward. Facing Mickey tracing his hand from Mickey shoulder along the arm to his hand, making him put the whiskey bottle down. With his knee he made Mickey open up his legs. Eyes were all over Mickey, he sighed deeply before staring straight into Mickey’s eyes. How hungry those eyes looked.

He took Mickey by his jaw, lifting his face up, giving himself a better access to Mickey’s neck. Mickey let out a helpless gulp. Then he felt lips on his neck. Then a bit of tongue in between kisses, the tiniest grazes of tongue along his vein. Forcing Mickey to shut his eyes. Then there was teeth, nipping at first, then a bite and a suck. Mickey moaned softly when he felt the teeth on him. His hands finding their way to the other ones back. Nails digging into that leather jacket. He was burning up.

Then the guy pulled back flirtatiously licking his lips, hands dripping down to Mickey’s waist. Pulling him closer before lifting Mickey to sit on top of the bar table, almost knocking off a few bottles. He glanced at Mickey, smiling deviously. And dropped to his knees. Opening Mickey’s belt. If there was a time to run, this was it. But Mickey didn’t.

Jeans hung around his angles, fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers. Then they slipped in, taking his boxers along. Mickey was semi-hard, mentally preparing himself to what was about to happen. The ginger took his dick in his hand, giving it a few stokes. So skillfully, his thump brushing over the tip. Mickey wasn’t sure even he could pleasure himself that good. Helpless moans filled the room. At this point Mickey was full on hard.

He felt a wet lick on his bell-end. It sent shivers up his spine. A hand on the base of his cock, lips frapping around him, closing in and suck. His mouth was fucking wet and hot. Fuck it felt good.

“Fuck you taste good.” Mickey heard the man say, making him smile a little.

Tongue traced along the vein, before he took it fully in his mouth.

Mickey frapped his legs around the ginger, encouraging him to go on. Mickey hissed when he was all in his mouth. Making him see stars.

“Fuck that feels good.” Mickey moaned.

Redhaired guy hummed around him. Sending vibrations all over Mickey. Driving him insane. He placed his hands on the other ones head, making him pop his head even more than it already was.

“Just like that.” Gosh, he felt dirty saying those things to a stranger. “Fuck.” Then Mickey slipped into oblivion.

“Ahhh.” Came out of Mickey’s mouth as he came as well.

Ginger wiped the corners of his mouth from Mickey’s cum.

“Delicious.” He said licking his lips.

Mickey finally opened his eyes. Then it slowly started to get real… A guy had given him the blowjob of his life. Slightly panicking Mickey hopped off the table, but his legs didn’t carry him, so he cashed on top off the ginger. He was on the floor, Mickey on his lap.

“Hey.” Redhead said.

“Hey.” Mickey nervously said back.

“I’m Ian Gallagher by the way.”

“Um, Mickey.” He gulped and continued. “I’m not, you know…”

“Gay huh? Don’t worry if had plenty of ‘straight’ dudes before.”

That didn’t sit well with Mickey. He wasn’t some fucking conquest to anyone.

“Fuck you.”

“Seriously, _Mickey_ , what’s your problem?”

“Fucks it to you, I’m gone.” Quickly Mickey was up and out of the door, trying to get his pants up.

“Nice to meet you too Mickey.”


	2. I don't care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a terrible fever, so please forgive me everything. Just read and ignore the grammar stuff. Umm'key? Bye now, leave me some love cuties ~<3~

**Monday 23th**

Send texts; 54, made calls; 39. All of them repeating the same thing over and over again. _I’m sorry, please forgive me._

Ian hadn’t gotten out of bed in three days, if it was up to him, he was never getting out of bed ever again. He was never going out again. He might lose his job over this, but Ian couldn’t care about any of that. It had been radio silence for three goddamn fucking days. Nothing from Mickey, no calls, no texts, a big fat nothing. There was only one thought that gave some consolation to Ian. Mickey hadn’t exactly said it was really over, so Ian clang onto this little shred of hope.

He pulled the sheets even tighter around him. Kleenexes everywhere. No use for them now, because Ian couldn’t cry anymore, he had cried too much, lacrimal ducts dryer that Sahara. Why had he done it? Why couldn’t he just leave it be?

Then his phone buzzed. A text. The sheets practically flew from him, so quickly Ian reached to his phone. Mickey, it was Mickey. Ian’s heart almost jumped away from his chest. He read those three single words.

**I need you.**

Ian felt his heart bursting. He needed him. Ian held the phone in his arms like he was hugging it. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’ Then it buzzed again.

**Satan’s missing.**

Ian jumped out of bed, he grabbed some clothes from the floor and put them on. He took his keys and dashed out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

**Two and a half months earlier.**

Holy sweet fucking Jesus, what was he doing here again? He had tried so hard in the past weeks to forget what happened, but it seemed like an impossible task. He needed to know for sure, so with a little help from his old friend vodka, he’d found his way to the same fucking porch.

He took final gulp of vodka and threw the bottle on the street, mashing it into million tiny pieces. He leaned against the door and knocked. He knocked again, and again and again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Mumbling came behind the door.

When the door opened Mickey almost crashed in, but somehow managed to stay on his feet.

“Umm, Mickey?” Ian clearly asked.

“Fucking Christ, how many fags have you blown since me? Fuck, let me in.”

“You’re wasted.”

“Not the point here.”

Ian stepped aside and let Mickey into the house. He shut the door behind him, turning around to see Mickey taking his jacket and shirt off. His mouth slightly ajar, he just stared at Mickey.

“Come on man, sex. I need you-“Hiccup. “Fuck me, you fucking faggot.”

That said Mickey passed out.  

What a douchebag Ian thought. He sighed and rolled his head, well technically this was his mess, in a way at least. So he picked Mickey up, god he must have weight a ton, drunken ass and all. Ian placed Mickey on the sofa and got a blanket. He covered Mickey with it. Kneeling beside him, he thought about stroking Mickey’s hair, but thought best not to. Drunkenness aside Mickey did look beautiful, those fading freckles around his eyes, those plump rosy lips. Ian sighed and against his better judgement placed a lingering kiss to Mickey’s forehead. It was supposed to be just fun…

***

Mickey started to wake up. Eyes feeling heavy, mouth dry and general pain everywhere. Blinking rabidly before fully getting his eyes open. He looked around him, what was this? Definitely not his place. A blanket covering him he explored more with his eyes. His eyes bounced around the room, until fixing on the bar table. Figuring out where he was. Oh gosh, fuck, he didn’t, they hadn’t?

“Anybody there?” He asked still rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” He hear a voice say, and he knew that voice.

It didn’t take Ian long to stand in front of him, with two mugs in his hands.

“Coffee?” Ian asked softly

Mickey sat up, he noticed he wasn’t wearing any shirt.

“We… We didn’t?” He looked scared like kitten when turned to look at Ian.

Ian left out a little chuckle before answering. “No.”

“All though, you did come here demanding sex. If I remember correctly you asked me to fuck you.”

Mickey shut his eyes and prayed that ground would swallow him. He wanted to disappear. Fuck, fuck, fuckety to fuck, fucking fucks. Maybe he should easy off the boozy for a while. He buried himself in his lap. He felt the sofa giving in, when Ian sat next to him.

“Hey, it’s okay, nothing to be ashamed about really.” He handed the coffee to Mickey, who accepted it.

“Just shut the fuck up.” Mickey spat, but then continued “Got any smokes?”

“Yeah, hold on a minute.” Ian got up and vanished to what Mickey assumed was his bedroom. Mickey drank the coffee in silence, trying to gather his thoughts. He looked for his missing shirt with his eyes and when he found it on the floor and got up and put the shirt on, then sat back on the sofa. Ian returned moment later with a pack of smokes in his hand.

“Malboro okay with you?” Ian asked and tossed the pack to Mickey.

“I don’t give a fuck as long it has nicotine on it.”

He placed the cigarette between his lips and dug up lighter from his pocket, with the cig lit, he took a long sweet drag from it. Filling his lungs with poison. After a few drags he turned to Ian and offered the smoke to him.

“What time it is anyways?” Mickey asked.

“Almost noon.”                                                                                         

Ian sat down next to Mickey and took the smoke offered to him.

“So, why’d you come here then?”

“Jesus, fucks it to you, does it fucking matter? I just did.”

“My god, you’ve got to be the most motherfucking withdrawn person I’ve ever fucking seen. Gosh.” Ian said rolling his eyes, passing the smoke back to Mickey.

Mickey had to laugh at that.

“Well now you’re singing my song man.”

He lifted the smoke to his lips, almost taking a drag, but stopped in the middle way. His eyes fixed on the floor, head down, he licked his lips.

“I don’t know. Really.”

Ian looked at Mickey, questions written on his face.

“You were curious?”

“I guess.”

“Still are?”

“Maybe?”

“Want to try something?”

Mickey had gotten this far all ready, so why not.

“What the hell, okay.” He put out the cigarette and turned to face Ian, afraid to look into his eyes.

Ian moved little closer to Mickey, lifted his hand to his face, brushing Mickey’s cheek with his fingers, so lightly that Mickey barely felt it. Slowly Mickey lifted his head up and looked at Ian, his smiling warm eyes. Like they were burning not with pity, or desire, but something. Ian’s eyes were also on Mickey’s and they stared each other for a while, not saying anything.

Ian’s fingers brushed over Mickey’s lips.

“You okay with kissing?” Ian asked, leaning even closer.

Mickey swallowed loudly. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried.” But nodded anyways. “What about morning breath and shit? Hungover?” But Ian just chuckled lightly.

Ian shut his eyes and closed the final distance between them. Mickey never shut his eyes. It was just a lingering peck. Ian pulled back to looked at Mickey if he was okay with more, not seeing any rejection he pulled back in. Hands holding Mickey face, he opened his mouth more and moved his lips, slowly, not using, even teasingly, his tongue.

It didn’t feel that different from a dude than a girl Mickey thought. Kinda nice actually. He started relaxing a bit, shut his eyes and answered the kiss. He welcomed it fully, pulling Ian by the collar even closer to him. Ian smiled into the kiss and moved his lips more rabidly, more hungrily. Tasting everything on Mickey there was to taste. Tobacco, strong coffee and alcohol. He slipped a little tongue here and there, trying to see if Mickey would let him, and he did.

There was heat and tension in the air as the boys kept kissing. Ian pulled back to breath and the lack of desire in his eyes? It was gone, it was all about desire now. Mickey was the one to crash their lips back together. It was wet and sloppy and tongues and hands everywhere. Mickey climbed into Ian lap. Pulling Ian’s hair and grazing his skin with his fingers. Mickey felt something making his pants feel tight around the crotch.

Fuck it, fuck everything, if it feels good, it’s alright? Doesn’t make him gay now does it? Fuck it.

Mickey broke the heated kiss off and started taking his shirt off, _again._

“Sure you wanna do this?” Ian asked, trying to wrap his head around all this.

“Don’t ask stupid fucking questions, just get on me?”

“Bedroom.” Ian said and pointed at the door of his bedroom.

Mickey climbed off Ian’s lap and made his way to the room. He opened the door, looking inside, not really looking, at least not in a way that he’d memorize the room, there was a king size bed, and that was all he needed to see. Ian followed Mickey to the room taking his own shirt off.

They looked at each other and started taking their pants off. When they both were naked beside the boxers, Ian pushed Mickey on the bed. Crawling on top of him, leaving hot kisses to his chest, moving up past the collarbones to the neck area. Kissing and sucking it. Mickey moaned when Ian’s mouth was on him, wrapping his arms around him. Ian pulled back to look at Mickey.

“Just do it, let’s get this over with.” Mickey whined both of anticipation and fear.

Ian reached to the bedside table, and dug a pack of lube and a condom.

“Just close your eyes.” Ian told Mickey. “And relax.”

Without being told Mickey swung around, so he was facing the mattress, he dropped his boxers. He was on all fours and closed his eyes. Ian squeezed a fair amount of lube on his fingers and other hand on Mickey’s cheek, ready to spread him open. Fingers teased the entrance in a circling motions.

“Remember to breath.” Ian said before pushing one finger in.

It stung, the weird feeling having something inside you, it wasn’t unpleased just weird mainly. Ian worked the one finger for a while, then eased in another. Mickey moaned and bit his lip.

“You okay?” Ian asked.

Mickey mumbled something back, nodding, go on, _please_ go on. He felt the fingers doing a scissoring motion inside him. Still it didn’t really hurt, quite pleasant, now that he was getting used to it. His own fingers digging into the mattress.

Ian pulled his fingers out, and opened the condom packed, placed it on, and poured more lube on his hands. He covered himself with it, grabbing Mikey by his hip, he placed himself on his hole and eased himself in. Mickey took a deep breath, when it hit him, it made him gasp out of surprise.

Well now it hurt like hell, Ian was way bigger than just a few fingers. Mickey bit his lip through the pain. Knuckles turning white from the squeezing. Slowly Ian kept rocking onto him, like his was singing a baby to sleep. All tough it hurt, Mickey didn’t like it easy, besides over the years, he’d gotten to appreciate the pain, liking it even.

“Come on man, don’t be such a fucking pussy.”

“But it will hurt, and you’ll cannot walk straight.” Ian tried to protest.

“I don’t care, just fuck me.” Mickey was begging, not that he’d never admit it to anyone.

Well if that’s what he wants, then so be it, Ian thought. And started moving faster.

Mickey didn’t know any more if it was pain or pleasure, and he didn’t care, it felt good, and that was all he needed to know. His quiet moans and hisses filled the room, he didn’t really hear anything from Ian, might be because the sound of his own heartbeat kept pumping in his ears.

Faster and faster Ian kept pushing into him, squeezing Mickey’s hips so hard, that there’s gonna be bruises tomorrow. From the noises Ian was making, he was about the come.

“You feel so good.” He hissed before he collapsed on top of Mickey, rocking his after orgasm shocks. He didn’t stay there for long, and rolled off Mickey, allowing him to roll onto his back.

“Want me to finish you off?” Ian asked panting.

“No.” Mickey turned to look at Ian, a man that had just fucked him in the ass. And it scared him.

“You liked it?”

“I don’t know.” Mickey lied, cos he knew damn well that he had fucking loved it.

“Wanna try again sometime.” Ian asked with a smile.

“I don’t know.”

“Mickey…” Ian said facing Mickey, looking into his blue eyes. “Just talk to me?”

Mickey shrugged it off. He sat up, and started to look for his clothes.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Tell me at least am I gonna see you again?”

“I don’t know.” Mickey got dressed and left.

Leaving Ian laying on the bed, wondering what was going to happen, where did he stand in all of this. Was he starting to feel something for this foul mouthed guy? Just fun right?


	3. I wanna know you, ghost/ I like pretending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at writing smut ;( ARgg. Anyways, some actual plot.

 

**Almost two months earlier.**

 

If Mickey was being completely honest, he had had these thoughts before, thoughts involving… Well _boys_. It first started when he was around ten. In gym class, he caught himself staring a boy chancing his clothes for too long. And later that night he found himself thinking about the sweaty gleaming skin, those collarbones, those tense calf’s, wondering what those large hands would feel on him. Not understanding there was anything wrong with it.

A year later he found out just how wrong it was. He had been playing with his little sister Mandy hide and seek on his neighborhood. There was an alley near their house and Mickey was convinced that Mandy was hiding in a trashcan there, with a large smile on his face he ran and ran to the alley, not to find his sister, but his father. Beating a man with tire iron. Yelling ‘fucking faggot’, the man on the ground was whining and pegging, but Terry, Mickey’s daddy, didn’t care. If more, it encouraged him even more.

Being a scared little boy Mickey hid behind the trashcan and watched his father beat the man, after a while, he stopped. He made his way away from the man with his buddies, not forgetting to spit on the man before. Mickey saw his father approaching him, and fearing his father’s wrath he tried to make himself disappear, but for nothing. But Terry spotted him, ‘good son, glad you saw that, you need to learn how to handle the fags?’ ‘Pops, what’s a faggot?’ Mickey asked. ‘The worst of humans, they all deserve a little lesson in life, fucking faggots’

‘Please Terry, _dad_ , don’t.’ Mickey woke up in his own screaming. Memories filling his head. He was covered in cold sweat. It tingled and burned. He was tired, tired at pretending. Angry at himself and his father, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and his coat, and went out.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly two am when Ian woke up when someone banged his front door, not wanting to deal with it, but then again the banging just would not fucking stop. Reluctantly Ian got up and threw a rope on him. He opened the door, to see no one else, but Mickey.

“Jesus fucking Christ Mickey.” Ian said rubbing the sleep off his eyes. But secretly he was glad to see Mickey.

“You don’t get to come here-“. He was cut off when Mickey tossed his hand aside and stepped inside. “At two am.” He glanced at Mickey. “Drunk as a skunk… This has to stop.”

“I swear to god, you’re just like a fucking ghost, you come and go as it pleases you.”

Mickey’s eyes were downcast, nervously biting his lip.

“I want you to teach me.”

 

* * *

 

**Monday 23th**

 

While running as fast as he could Ian decided not to pressure Mickey in any way, not wanting to fuck up even more than he already had. He was going there to help Mickey, because he had asked him to. Nothing more, baby steps, give Mickey time. Time… That was it. Yeah time, Ian thought.

Ian reached to Mickey’s flat and knocked. Mickey answered quickly and opened the door.

“Hey.” He said nervously, not looking at Ian.

“Hey. “ Ian said back.

“Um, sorry to disturb, but I really didn’t know who else could help me, ya know?”

“Just tell me what happened.” Ian said as calm as he could.

Mickey nod and let Ian inside. Ian’s eyes roamed the room. Empty, half empty beer bottles everywhere.

“So I went on a bit of a bender.”

“I can see.” Ian said no even trying to hide his condemn.

“Don’t fucking start!” Mickey spat, finally looking at Ian. Calming himself down a bit, he continued. “So I must have left a window or some shit open and she must have gotten out.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“I dunno, yesterday I think.”

“Jesus Mickey.”

“Don’t fucking patronize me! This is your fucking fault!”

It was extremely hard for Ian not to cry.

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“Save your fucking sorries and shove them up your ass, just help me find my damn cat.”

 

* * *

 

**Almost two months earlier.**

“So you basically want me to be, what? Your sex guide?” Ian asked baffled, taking a gulp of whiskey, which Mickey had kindly offered him. Adjusting himself on the sofa next to Mickey.

“Basically yeah.”

“No.” Ian said shaking his head.

“Whatta fuck ya mean, no?!” Mickey roared.

“I want something in exchange.”

Mickey puffed out his cheek and let out an annoyed sigh.

Pouting his lips, he finally said: “Fine, name your prize.”

“I get to know you.”

Mickey was left utterly baffled. He had expected money, drugs, anything but that.

“Why you care?” Without even thinking it the words came out of his mouth.

“I just do, does it matter?”

“Fucking fine. Just don’t expect me to spill my guts to you.”

“I can work with that.” Ian said, taking a gulp of whiskey.

“Say we play a little game?”

“What game?”

Ian grinned, raising his eyebrows teasingly at Mickey.

“Well I make you feel _good_ , exchange I get to ask you questions?”

Mickey took a moment to think, then said quietly: “Yes.”

That said Ian took Mickey by his hands and lied him slowly on the sofa, head against the armrest. He on top of Mickey, looking directly into those icy blue eyes, before tearing his eyes off to look at Mickey’s neck, Adam’s apple visibly moving when Mickey gulped, Ian dive in. Kissing the neck sweetly and slowly, taking his time with it. He held Mickey’s hands beside his head, pinned to the armrest.

The tip of tongue seeking the joint between the collarbone and the neck. When he found it, he took a bit of the delicate skin between his teeth, biting, making Mickey gasp. Ian sucked the spot, not leaving any marks, tracing his tongue along the collarbone, teeth gnawing it. Mickey squirmed underneath him, trying to get free, but Ian pinched back harder.

“What’s your full name?”

“Aaa, Mickey, Um, Mickey Milkovich.” Mickey said, trying to hold back his moans.

Ian took Mickey’s both wrists in one hand, and let his free hand slip under Mickey’s shirt. He felt hot skin under his touch, fingertips reaching to the nipple, taking it between the fingers, giving it a light twist. Ian got up enough to sit on Mickey’s pelvis and lift his shirt up, so he could see his full torso. It looked beautiful, pale, like it was made of the finest silk. But the surface was rough. There were visible scars around the body.

Ian lowered himself down again, so his lips were on Mickey’s chest, kissing the spot between his pecs. Lips moving to the already hard nipple, Ian licked around it, circles, with tip of his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. Ian could feel Mickey’s whole body trembling.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.” Mickey hissed. “Fuck.”

Ian smiled against Mickey’s flesh, and trailed his tongue along Mickey’s stomach. Ian pulled back up again to grind his hips against Mickey’s pelvis and his growing erection. Ian smiled at sight of Mickey, helpless under him, biting his lips to cover up noises.

“ _Mick._ ” He whispered hotly. “You’re allowed to feel good, you don’t have to cover it up, not in here, not with me.”

With that Mickey seemed to relax, allowing himself to breathe, well to pant actually.

Ian kept grinding against him.

“Where you work?”

“I don’t.”

Ian traced his thump over the waist band of Mickey’s boxers.

“Why not?”

“I hustle.”

For some reason Ian found that incredibly hot.

Ian started undoing Mickey’s belt, finally letting go of Mickey’s hands. Once free they practically flew the help Ian get his pants off. When he was free of the fabric around him, Ian took his cock in his hands and gave it a few strokes. Mickey squeezed his eyes shut. Moaning softly when Ian touched him.

“Got any family?”

Gasp. “S-sister, and few. Fuck. Brothers.”

Ian’s thump kept sliding over the tip of Mickey’s dick. Ian lowered himself so he could suck Mickey off. Ian tongue twirled around the bell-end. He licked up and down, making it wet and moist, easy to suck. The more surface Ian touched with his tongue, the more Mickey moaned, hands tugging Ian hair, pulling.

Ian slit the beating organ into his mouth, and popped his heads, every now and then using his teeth a little, getting wonderful reactions from Mickey.

Not sure if he was pushing it, but he asked anyhow.

“Where’d you get the scars?”

Far too lost in the moment to care Mickey answered.

“Daddy.”

Ian flinched to the bit of information, but continued anyway. Knowing this was the time to stop playing. He concentrated fully on giving Mickey oral pleasure. With Mickey coming and Ian taking it all into his mouth and swallowing. He asked. “You want more?”

Mickey nodded and Ian took him by the hands, taking them towards the bedroom.


	4. It don't matter, but I know you will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short chap, cos I'm busy. I am, really, not watching literally everything Noel Fisher's been on, nouuuuuuuu.... Okay I totally am. SORRYYYY.

**Monday 23th**

 

“Did you check the nearby dumpsters? Maybe she got hungry and dig around?”

“How fucking stupid you take me reddie? That was the first place I checked.”

“Well where did you check then?”

“Within three blocks, man, everywhere. Big fat nada.”

“Maybe we should check again just in case?”

Mickey spaced around his small living room, running his fingers in his hair.

“What, what if she got hit by a car?” Mickey could feel tears emerging, but quickly wiped his eyes.

Ian stood there, not knowing if it was okay to comfort Mickey or not. He wanted so badly to hold Mickey, to tell him they would find his cat, that everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t, knowing Mickey would push him away, breaking his already broken heart again.

“We’ll check again, come on.”

“I swear to every fucking god, that I’ll fucking murder you and myself if somethings happened to her.”

“You can go on your murderous path after we FIND her, okay?”

There was the slightest sniffle, when Mickey muttered ‘okay.’ Finding comfort in Ian’s words, safety even.

“Just grab her treats and well head out.”

 

* * *

 

They’d search every possible place they could think off, hell they even checked one sewer. They were losing sunlight, they were covered in sewer slime, sweat and trash. They were beat basically.

“We’ll go once more.”

“Ian, stop it, there’s no point. It’s almost nighttime and we’ve found jackshit. Let’s just get cleaned up okay? Then you’re sorry ass can get fuck outta my face?”

“But…”

“Knock it off already will ya? Fuck! We’ll head back, end of fucking story.”

Punching the air around him Mickey was angry, beat and sad. And Ian feared that if Satan was nowhere to be found, he’d get it and bad. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but still.

They were walking upstairs when they heard it. The weakest ‘miauuu’, which made Mickey jump, he fired like a rocket towards the sound. There the little fucker was, sitting in front of Mickey’s flat. Mickey scooped the cat up and held her so close to his chest, that Ian feared Mickey was going to kill her. Mickey twirled around with the cat on his arms, lifting her in the air. All though it was a happy, joyful moment, Ian couldn’t help feeling the knife twisting his heart.

“Who’s a good girlie? Hmm, you hungry, you must be hungry. Daddy’s little princess, let’s go inside, we’ll get you clean and dry. “Mickey rambled to his cat and gave her kisses on the head.

Mickey wouldn’t never love him like that. Ian stood there, not saying anything, trying to figure out what he should do.

“You coming in or what? Taking that shower?”

 

* * *

 

**Almost two months earlier.**

 

Ian had always been, lack of a better term, a damsel in distress, when it came to relationships. Always sticking his nose when it didn’t belong, always engaging with people that were no good. Call it ‘the savior or nurse – syndrome’ or whatever, he thought he could make people better. Even go as far as fixing them. Broken people attracted him. And that was why he knew better, than to do this with _him_ , this arrangement. Cos Mickey was broken, so fucking broken. But when the night was over, Ian was hooked.

 

* * *

 

“It’s late.” Ian glanced at his clock. “It’s almost 6 am. Why don’t you hit the sack? Sleep for couple of hours? You can go to the sofa okay, you don’t have to sleep next to me.” Ian said quietly, not wanting to scare Mickey off.

“Nah, man. I better go home.” Mickey said, starting to look for his clothes.

He got up and pulled his pants up, picking his shirt from the floor. Then he turned to Ian.

“This between us.” He pointed his finger between him and Ian. “Don’t mean anything.”

Then he stayed silent for a while.

“I’m not fucking gay, your ginger head better remember that.” He said, keeping it to himself, not looking at Ian.

Ian licked his lips, thinking how deep in denial Mickey was.

“Whatever you say.” Ian sighed. “Gimme your phone.”

Mickey was digging up his smokes, when he heard Ian.

“Whatta fuck for?”

“Jesus, so I can put my number in. So you can, what, text me if you’re gonna drop by. I’m getting really tried you showing up here in middle of the night.”

“Phew, fine.” Mickey threw his phone on the bed next to Ian. And Ian quickly typed his number in and handed the phone back to Mickey.

“So… I’m gonna go. It was, um, nice. I’ll shoot you with a text sometime.” That said Mickey left.

Smoking his cigarette Mickey walked along the sidewalk, thinking was this such a good idea after all. But fuck it, who it would hurt? Out of curiosity Mickey dug up his phone and checked the newest contact. _Teacher with a big dick_. Mickey found himself chuckling. The boy had a sense of humor, he’ll give him that. Then shoot a text.

**Enormous.**

Then he changed the name to fire-crotch, a more discreet name.


	5. Darkness, embrace me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn this is going to be longer than I thought, damn. Btw, Mickey's cat is based on my cat disguised as my other cat.

**Two months earlier.**

They’d been doing it for a few weeks now, it was always the same, he was the one that came to Ian. Which was weird, cos he wasn’t gay. Or at least he wouldn’t never call himself that, can’t be gay if it is just one person? Because, it had always been just about Ian. Curiosity before, yes. But sex and stuff, no, always just Ian. When Mickey thought about it, the weirder it got, he didn’t even know anything about Ian. Not his age, job, family, dreams, hopes, fucking nothing. He knew what Ian liked in bed, yes, but that was about it. But why the fuck would he care if it was just about sex? Right? RIGHT? Mickey reassured himself. Then he drifted into the dream world.

 

* * *

 

Ian was there, holding his hand. Smiling that half-ass smile like he always did. (Since when Mickey had been paying Ian so much attention to know how he smiles?) Saying something to Mickey, but he couldn’t catch what. Hands pulled him closer, ruffling his dark hair. Mickey smiled. He felt safe. Then he was even closer to Ian, his scent hitting Mickey. Ian smelled of musk, lemon and sea salt, like he always did. (Since when Mickey knew what Ian smelled like?)

The green eyes looked into the blue ones. Ian’s eyes looked beautiful, deep and filled with desire, lust and compassion, like they always did. (Since when Mickey had looked deeply enough into those eyes, to know what they really looked like?) Soft hands cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss. It was tender and made Mickey feel tingly and burning, like butterflies. Soft lips tasted like Ian, mint, tobacco and cinnamon, like he always tasted. (Since when Mickey knew exactly what Ian tasted like?) Lips pulled away and formed words. Words that Mickey understood. _Stay here, it’s safe here, let go…Let go_. Then he woke up.

It was the first time in years when Mickey woke up from a dream that wasn’t a nightmare. Not that he’d want to dream about some fucking ginger ass kid, but at least it was better than to dream about Terry.

 

* * *

 

**Wednesday 25 th**

Mickey had let him take a quick shower, and when Ian got out Mickey was sitting in the sofa playing with his cat. Not even noticing Ian. Ian had coughed to make himself known. Mickey had turned to look at him, that loving smile fading away from his face. ‘Thanks man’, he had mumbled. ‘Now get out’ had followed. And with heartbroken look on his face Ian had done just that, before he had shut the door, he had heard Mickey saying ‘Wanna take a shower with daddy? Clean you up a bit? What ya say girlie?’ How the fuck could Mickey turn from a loving pet owner into douchebag and back in seconds?

It had been five days. Now Ian wasn’t so sad anymore, his sadness was turning into anger. Who the fuck Mickey thinks he is? Ian was trying to help him for fucks sake. Okay Ian knew exactly how deep in the closet Mickey was, but that’s why he had done what he had. To fucking help him. To help him see the light of day for once. To see that the world wouldn’t come crumbling down, but in Mickey’s eyes it obviously fucking had. Despite the anger Ian was feeling, he wasn’t ready to quit just yet. Honestly he wasn’t sure was he ready to ever quit Mickey.

 

* * *

 

 

**Two months earlier.**

 

Mickey was about to step in a grocery store, but turned away when he saw Ian across the street.

“Aye, red head!” He yelled. Making Ian see him, and when he had, Mickey could see him smiling.

“Wait the fuck up, will ya?” He yelled, again. And ran across to catch Ian. His lips kept jerking when he saw Ian up close, like he was trying to smile.

“What’s up?” Ian asked, and continued. “Are we graduating from dark secret rooms, to broad daylight now? What if someone sees us talking?” Ian smirked and teased.

“Fuck off man.” Mickey said and lightly punched Ian to his shoulder. Making him lose a bit of his balance and when he got it back, he had moved closer to Mickey. Close enough for Mickey to catch a hint of his scent. Yup, fucking lemons. Fuck.

“I was thinking the other night, and I wanna try something.” He said, a hint of flirting when he raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“Now?” Ian asked confused.

“Yeah, I live pretty close, so come on what ya say?”

“If I get to see your place, then I’m on board.”

They walked way too closely for Mickey’s liking, so he pulled a little further. Only to realize that he was moments later just a close as he had previously been. He was the one getting too close. Fuck.

They reached Mickey’s flat which was in south side, the whole building looked like it was about to fall apart. But Ian didn’t care, he was excited to see how Mickey lived, what his flat looked like. And the mere fact Ian was also born in the south side.

Mickey opened the door and motioned Ian to get inside. They were greeted with a weak ‘miaaau’. There was a cat in the flat? Fuck, Mickey had a cat? Ian thought. The totally black little furball twirled around Mickey’s legs and purred. Mickey lifted the cat up and held it in his arms, totally forgetting he had company.

“Who’s a good girl?” The cat purred some more. “I know you are, daddy’s little girlie.” Mickey gave the cat a kiss on the head.

Ian just looked at them. His insides melting, Mickey looked so different. He looked real somehow.

“You want some food? Hmm?”

Ian tried to bit his lip, so he wouldn’t laugh, but he failed. And he let out a chuckle. Now Mickey remembered that Ian was there and dropped the cat on the floor (luckily they always land on the feet) and face frozen turned to look at Ian.

“What’s so fucking funny?” He asked stupidly, knowing exactly what Ian was laughing at.

“Just didn’t take you for a cat person. That’s all.”

“Shut the fuck up. I didn’t want her in the first place.” Mickey started taking his coat off, and Ian did the same.

“How you got her then?”

“She just fucking followed me home few years ago, she started hanging around here since then, so one day I let her in to give her some food, so she kinda just stayed, I guess.”

“What’s her name then?”

“Satan.”

“Satan? How can cute thing like her be called Satan?” Ian said pointing the cute creature purring on the sofa.

“Don’t let her fool ya, she’s a fucking handful. Always doing stuff she’s not allowed, she’s just playing nice.”

Nervously Mickey rubbed his head. “So anyways, about the thing I was telling you about, make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.” Mickey said vanishing to somewhere.

“Okay?” Ian replied and started looking around the flat, action movies, posters of naked women, booze everywhere, all sorts of manly things. Jesus how deep in denial was this guy? Ian whipped the sofa off from some empty beer cans and sat down.

Mickey returned to the room, with different toys in his hands. Sex toys. The thought of Mickey waltzing around a sex shop, made Ian grin. Mickey dumped the toys the sofa table.

“So how about it?”

“How about we start it slow, okay?” Ian said and pulled Mickey, so he cashed on top of Ian. Easily Ian wrapped his hands around Mickey and flipped them around so Mickey was under him. Ian’s rough grips made Mickey squirm in pleasure, he liked when Ian was rough. He stared hungrily into those deep green eyes, and there was desire and compassion. Double-fuck.

Ian smiled before he dived in. But the kiss was something Mickey didn’t expect. It was tender. It wasn’t rough like they usually kissed, there wasn’t biting or sucking. Ian’s lips just moved slowly and tenderly. But was what that taste? Cinnamon. Triple-fuck.

There was something on the kiss which made Mickey do something he had never done before. He wrapped his hands around Ian’s upper body, he just held Ian. Allowing himself to get lost in tenderness of the kiss.

He wasn’t feeling it any more, the hunger for sex, it was gone. Mickey broke the lazy kiss off, and away from Ian.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Ian asked worried.

Mickey stayed silent for a while, he licked his lips and sighed.

And without thinking the words just blurred out from his mouth.

“Ever look at the water, the silent beauty of it? Ever think about drowning?”

The words were out of his mouth, Mickey cursed his whole existence right there, fuck, now Ian though he was some crazy-ass suicide wannabe. He slowly fixed his on Ian, expecting the usual. The fucking pity. But when Mickey looked at Ian, it wasn’t there, the pity, there was more or less understanding.

Ian crawled off on top of Mickey and sat normally next to him, and Mickey did the same.

“Actually I do.” Ian said after the silence, which hadn’t been awkward.

Mickey grabbed the pillow from the floor and hugged it.

“Tell me about it… Tell me about you.”

Without even realizing it Mickey was letting Ian into his life.

 

There's a picture of Satan (aka my cat Zira)

**Author's Note:**

> Love the comments and kudos daaaarlings ~<3~ thank you.


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